


Sunday Mornings

by the_only_education_worth_having



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Death, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 00:54:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_only_education_worth_having/pseuds/the_only_education_worth_having
Summary: How Remus and Reader spend their Sundays.





	Sunday Mornings

Sundays were by far your favourite day of the week. No responsibilities, no rushing, just relaxing. Your job at the bookshop in Diagon Alley kept you busy 6 days of the week and left virtually no time for a life. But Sundays, Sundays were your days. Last week, for instance, you awoke as you usually did to sunlight streaming through the window. The curtains had made a feeble attempt to block the harsh light from waking you. You had raised your head bleary eyed and looked at the clock. 7:34AM. Far too early to get up yet, in your opinion, and so you turned your body to face the other way. As you did this your face had rolled into the crook of an arm and your head came to rest below a lightly stubbled chin. An arm had snaked its way down you back and a hand had come to rest on your hip. “Morning,” Remus had mumbled quietly, not really waking, whilst adjusting himself to the new position. You had smiled and closed your eyes, drifting back off to sleep. 

When you awoke again it was late morning. You found that you hadn’t moved, though in this time Remus had wrapped both his arms around you. You looked up into his face to find him looking down at you. The sunlight wasn’t as harsh as before but it gently cascaded across his face highlighting the lines and scars that aged him greatly. He had smiled and said “Morning.”  
“Morning.” you smiled back. Yawning you asked, “Were you watching me sleep again?”  
“No,” Remus said sincerely, though a smile had tugged at his lips.  
“You know it’s weird, right?”  
“I disagree…. it’s peaceful. Soothing.”  
“Weird. Creepy,” you argued back playfully, swatting his chest. Remus sighed and rolled his eyes. You’d had this argument a million times before. Every Sunday you’d wake to find him watching you sleep. You’d tell him it was creepy, that normal people didn’t just watch people sleep and he’d argue right back. Rolling his eyes and he pretended that you had changed his mind even though you knew you hadn’t. Honestly, you didn’t even mind it that much it had just become routine by now. You knew it reassured him, he’d lost everyone in his life so just having you close, and watching you sleep made him feel better. He knew you were safe and it comforted him. 

Sometime later you had both agreed that you couldn’t stay in bed any longer and had gotten out of bed. You pottered into the bathroom to shower whilst Remus went downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast. He was sweet like that, and also you were a terrible cook. Ten minutes later you descended the stairs and entered the kitchen to find a scrambled eggs on toast and a cup of tea waiting for you. Remus had sat at the table occasionally nibbling at a piece of toast whilst buried behind Saturday’s copy of the Daily Prophet. After breakfast, both of you started to tidy up the house. Washing up and laundry usually top of the list, as you had little time to do it after work and Remus was constantly busy with the order. It didn’t take long and it made you laugh to hear Remus singing to the radio. You had watched him from the doorway as he folded sheets and clothes gently swaying his hips and singing softly. Like most times he’d caught you and forced you to join in. 

Lunch was missed due to getting up late and the two of you had headed out for the day. The order was quiet on Sundays usually but on occasion, a meeting would take up most of your day. On that day you’d decided to head into town to shop, but sometimes you would travel up to a wizarding town like Hogsmeade and spend the day around the shops or in the pub. Sundays near the full moon were mostly spent in bed. Usually, food was ordered in and eaten in bed whilst watching TV. 

At dusk, you had decided to head for home. Remus had cooked whilst you flicked through the channels trying to find something to watch before deciding to put on a film instead. Before you two settled down on the couch Remus nipped to the corner shop and replenished his chocolate stash and so you could stuff yourselves whilst watching TV. Near the end of the film, you’d felt Remus’ breathing slow and had gently got raised yourself off him and got up. You’d moved the chocolate wrappers and glasses from the coffee table and headed to the kitchen. Throwing the wrappers away, and rinsing the glasses you’d padded back to the living room to switch off the TV. Once you came back in Remus stirred. He stretched and rubbed his eyes. You offered your hand to help him and once upright he had pulled you into a hug. Resting your forehead on his you closed your eyes. His lips brushed yours and you sighed. Opening your eyes you led him upstairs where both of you changed for bed. Climbing under the covers your bodies found each other. His arms came around you, his lips pressing a kiss into the top of your head.   
“I love you Y/N,” he’d murmured. “Love you too,” you’d replied before going sleep. 

Sundays were your days. But now it was different. Today would be different.

Yes, you would wake to the harsh sunlight streaming through the curtains but when you rolled over there would be nothing but cold sheets. You wouldn’t lounge around in bed, but instead, you would get up quickly and head to the shower. On autopilot would wash and dress before heading downstairs to make breakfast that would be composed of soggy toast and a cup of tea. After this, you would start the chores with laundry and washing still the top priority. Except now they would be done in silence, and when you’d put clothes into the wardrobe you’d linger for a minute or two, allowing his scent to wash over and tears to silently run down your face. After composing yourself you would head out. You found that the longer you were in the house you sadder you became so you would head to a friends house or the burrow to surround yourself with people. You liked this, it helped you to space out, forcing you not to think of him. It also helped you to be with people who understood. Eventually, very late in the evening, you would inevitably head home. Tired you climbed into bed, longing for sleep, but you knew you would find yourself staring at the ceiling, allowing the sadness to wash over and the tears to flow freely.


End file.
